


Broken Dreams

by aphreal



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair enters the Fade to rescue Alexia Cousland from a desire demon's dream construct, only to discover that her deepest wish isn't what he would have expected. And it has no place for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a kink-meme prompt found here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/8033.html?thread=28179041#t28179041
> 
> These events aren't part of my headcanon for Alistair and Alexia, so I suppose this could be considered a what-if AU relative to my other Alexia fics.

Alistair rushed after the mabari, hurrying towards whatever problem the hound wanted him to come fix. When Kazaril had bounded into the camp and barked at him frantically, it had been clear something was wrong, and he’d sprung to his feet to follow immediately. He could only hope that someone with a broader vocabulary would be able to fill him in on the details when he got to wherever the mabari was leading him. 

They emerged from trees into a sheltered clearing, and his relief at seeing Wynne and Leliana apparently unharmed was quickly eclipsed by a bolt of panic at the sight of Alexia lying motionless on the ground. He rushed to kneel by her side. “What happened? Is she all right?” 

“There is nothing wrong with her, physically.” Wynne’s careful answer was anything but reassuring. 

“We were caught unaware by a desire demon,” Leliana explained. “It has trapped her in a dream from which we cannot awaken her.” 

Alistair looked around the clearing for a sign of the demon, a way to combat the threat. “Where is it?”

“It retreated into the Fade, and she has not moved since.” 

“I believe I can send someone into the dream to find her, as Jowan did to free Connor,” Wynne said. “I sent Kazaril to get you because I thought she would respond best to your presence, given your relationship with her.” 

“What do I need to do?” 

Wynne looked grim, and he suspected the task would not be easy or without risk. “In order to free her mind from the demon’s grasp, you must persuade her that she is dreaming, but it must be done gently. If you act too directly or disrupt the dream, her mind will reject your presence. You must first convince her that you belong wherever she believes herself to be. Gain her trust, and then help her to realize that the dream cannot be real.” 

“That is why Wynne wishes to send you,” Leliana said. “If Alexia loves you as much as you say, surely you will have a place in the fantasy the demon has spun to entrap her.” 

Her words were smooth and polite, but there was an edge to Leliana’s tone that made them feel like a challenge. She had been treating him strangely for the past few weeks, since his relationship with Alexia had become apparent to the rest of the group. Alistair was somewhat hurt by her sudden coldness. He’d thought they were friends and didn’t understand what he had done to change that. 

But this wasn’t the time to think about it, so he ignored the bard’s barbed comment, focusing instead on Wynne’s instructions for helping Alexia. “Stay in character, remind her of what’s real, and get her to wake up.” He nodded firmly. “I’m ready as soon as you are.” 

“Lay back and relax,” Wynne instructed, beginning the complex incantation to send his mind into the Fade to join Alexia’s dream. 

Alistair closed his eyes and was somewhere else, a large hallway with worked stone walls. Judging by the crests worked into the décor, this was Highever, and he thought he probably should have expected that Alexia’s fondest thoughts would involve her lost home. He heard the sounds of music and merriment coming from the far end of the hallway and walked in that direction, seeking the heart of the dream. 

Passing through the wide open doors, he found himself in a large room, brightly lit and filled with people and the sounds of joy. The walls were hung with bright bunting, and people were laughing and talking, all dressed in the most festive clothing they could afford. His eyes were drawn to the head table and the people gathered around it. He studied them as he approached, making his way carefully through the happy throng. 

The guest of honor at the center of the table was a young boy, his face lit with joy that was mirrored in the proud expressions of the couple that stood behind him, clearly his parents. An older couple sat nearby, smiling fondly at the exuberance of youth. And there was Alexia… 

His breath caught at the sight of her. It always did, but there was something different about her here. She looked… softer than he was used to. He had never seen her wear anything but armor, and here she was in a flowing gown in a shade of blue that made her skin glow. Her hair was always pulled back into a practical warrior’s queue, but now it fell to frame her face in golden waves. Her eyes were less guarded, her expression more open. Alistair realized with a pang of sorrow that, for all of their closeness, he had never seen her look unreservedly happy before. 

Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself that none of this was real and steeled himself to the necessity of taking her away from these images of her lost family. He stepped forward, close enough to the table to draw attention. Alexia was the first to notice him, and the joyful smile that spread across her face warmed him all the way through. 

“Rory!” she exclaimed. “You’ve come back for Oren’s nameday feast?”

His answering smile faltered and then vanished completely as he realized that she didn’t know him. Wynne’s assumptions had been wrong and Leliana’s sly insinuations right: there was no place for him in Alexia’s perfect dream world. He knew they hadn’t been together long, but she said she loved him. Didn’t that mean as much to her as it did to him? He couldn’t fathom a version of his future that didn’t include her by his side to support him, and it hurt to be faced with the clear truth that she didn’t feel the same. He struggled to focus, to stay in character within the dream, but it was hard to think around the pain in his chest. 

Sensing his discomfort, Alexia frowned. “Or are you here for another reason? Is it Warden business? Did Duncan send you?” The lights in the room dimmed slightly, and the music grew fainter as the environment responded to her concern. 

Alistair struggled to adjust to the unexpected turn of events, wondering who she thought he was and searching for a response that wouldn’t jar Alexia’s mind into excluding him from the dream. “I do have something to talk to you about, but it can wait until later. I wouldn’t want to interrupt the party.” 

Her smile returned, and the music and lights seemed to brighten along with her mood. Satisfied that the danger was past, Alistair allowed Alexia to direct him to a place at the table, joining her family as they watched the boy receive gifts and slice open a special pie to reveal trinkets that he bestowed upon his guests. 

From listening to the conversation, he was able to identify the members of Alexia’s family and piece together his place as a household knight who had become a Grey Warden. He supposed it was a logical role for him to assume in this domestic setting, and Alexia seemed to regard him as a trusted friend, which would hopefully help with freeing her from the dream. 

As the merriment subsided and the guests began to trickle out, things turned calmer and more intimate, just the family and close friends remaining. Alistair decided to seize the chance to talk to Alexia, trying to judge how far the demon had distorted her view of reality to create this idyllic scene. 

“Everyone seems so relaxed and happy here. Aren’t you concerned about the Blight?” 

Alexia laughed. She actually _laughed_ , and that, more than the changes in her appearance and watching her completely at ease and happy with people he’d never met, began to convince Alistair that he didn’t really know her. Her indifference to the cause they had devoted themselves to together almost hurt more than the polite distance in her eyes when she spoke to him. “You’re a Grey Warden, so I suppose you have to worry about the Blight. But the rest of us don’t need to. I have enough faith in the Wardens to know that we’re not in any real danger at Highever. If the rest of them are anything like you, everything will be fine.” 

Even though he knew it wasn’t really directed at him, he was touched by her easy trust and her confidence in him. There was a moment where he found it hard not to get distracted from his purpose, and he wondered if he had stayed too long and begun to be affected by the demon’s lure himself. Had it sensed how he craved her approval and deliberately given him in the image of someone she admired and respected to make him less likely to fight back? He tried to stay focused, probing harder at Alexia’s skewed version of recent events. “You think the Grey Wardens can still handle the Blight? Even after Ostagar? There are scarcely any of us left!”

Alexia frowned for a moment, but her expression brightened again quickly. “I know your order lost people at Ostagar, good people. So did Fergus; not all of his troops came home with him. But even father says it was worth the cost to strike such a decisive blow against the Darkspawn. Surely the Wardens knew the risk and were willing to take it. Isn’t that what you do: In death, sacrifice?”

Hearing her quote the motto almost dismissively made him shudder; it was painful and simply wrong to have her talk about their shared duty so lightly. He stared into her bright, unconcerned eyes, willing her to see the truth. “We didn’t win at Ostagar. What about the king’s death?” 

Alexia shook her head. “King Cailan didn’t die. You must have only heard the initial reports after the battle. He was badly injured and presumed beyond help, but there were mages with the army who were able to heal him. One woman in particular, an accomplished enchanter from the Circle, worked near miracles on the king and some of those with him. The kingdom owes her a great debt.” 

Alistair reeled at her complete rewriting of history, even as he tried to ignore his resentment that she still remembered Wynne, while he was sitting right in front of her and she didn’t know him. He cast around for a more personal topic that might break her complacent denial. “Aren’t you worried about Arl Howe?” 

“Rendon? Why should she be?” Alexia’s father asked sharply, clearly having overheard the conversation. 

Alistair thought it was a hopeful sign that the demon was taking a more direct role to combat his influence, using its constructs to maintain the illusion. Maybe he’d finally found a weak point. 

“Howe’s ambitious and treacherous. He wouldn’t be above hurting or even killing people who stood in the way of his advancement.” 

Alexia’s mother sniffed dismissively. “Even Rendon would never be foolish enough to harm his future daughter-in-law.” 

The tiny, shy smile on Alexia’s face felt like a punch to the gut. Alistair struggled to breathe as he turned back and forth between the two women in stunned bewilderment. Alexia had been snared by her deepest desires in the form of a dream where she didn’t recognize him and planned to marry someone else? He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t formulate a single coherent thought, and he simply stared at Alexia in mute appeal, hoping she would say something that would make the world make sense again. 

“Of course you wouldn’t have heard. The agreements were just finalized, so the word hasn’t had time to spread,” Eleanor said with a maternal smile. “And I would hope that Grey Wardens have better things to do than keep up with noble gossip anyway.” She placed a loving hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Alexia is going to be wed to Rendon’s oldest, as soon as he returns from the Free Marches. She’ll be Arlessa of Amaranthine in due time.” 

The teyrna’s expectant pause seemed to demand something from him, so he stammered out congratulations as he desperately searched for a way to get his footing in this morass and get through to Alexia. The fantasy was too well constructed; his subtle questions were only prompting Alexia’s subconscious to fill in more details that would reinforce the illusion. He was rapidly losing ground, so it was time to risk something more direct. 

Tuning out her family, the music, and all of their surroundings, he focused only on Alexia, staring intently into her eyes. “Alexia, none of this is real; it’s a dream. Part of you has to know this isn’t right. You can’t be with your family celebrating Oren’s nameday.” He took a steadying breath and steeled his voice to deliver his next words in the most blunt, cruel tone possible, hoping to shock her into remembering. “Because he won’t have another nameday. He was killed by Arl Howe’s soldiers, slaughtered in the middle of the night.” 

Alexia’s mother began shouting, berating him for uttering such heartless, vicious lies, but he ignored her, watching the shadow of doubt that bloomed in Alexia’s eyes. The room grew darker, and the music took on a discordant, mournful tune. From the corner of his eye, Alistair saw Oren slump to the ground, a mangled corpse replacing the happy, laughing boy as Alexia’s true memories began to reassert themselves. 

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispered brokenly. 

Alistair could see the images around them flicker as the demon’s dream competed with the truth, and he pressed harder. “They killed Orana, too, and the servants. Most of the household, dead without warning.” He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the feasthall was gradually transformed into an abattoir, people dropping dead as gory wounds blossomed across their bodies, soaking festive garments with blood. The worst part was the dulling of Alexia’s eyes as she remembered and her face took on the subtle traces of pain that he had never known her without. 

“Your father’s dead, too, and your mother. She chose to stay at his side, knowing what would happen to her.” The elder Couslands slumped over, Eleanor draped protectively across her husband’s corpse as her lifeblood mingled with his. There were tears running from Alexia’s eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice them as she stared at the scene of growing horror. 

“I didn’t go with Duncan,” Alistair continued. “You did. He saved you and took you to Ostagar to become a Grey Warden. You survived the Joining and the massacre that followed Loghain’s betrayal of the order.” 

Alexia nodded slowly, her brow furrowing with confusion. “If you didn’t become a Warden, what happened to you, Rory?”

Alistair paused. “I don’t know,” he admitted, not wanting to make up a story that might conflict with her memories. 

She bit her lip. “I guess a person’s spirit wouldn’t want to think about how it got that way.” Her voice was soft and hesitant. “So I’ll have to remember for you.” 

Alistair remained silent while she thought, holding his breath and hoping that searching her memory in this deliberate fashion would weaken the demon’s hold on her mind. Her eyes widened slightly as they focused back on his face, a look of pity and grief coming to her features. “You went to hold them off, bought me time to escape. You’re as dead as everyone else here.” Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she blinked. “But you’re not part of the dream, are you? You knew enough to make me see it wasn’t real, and you haven’t dropped dead now that I know you should be. You’re really you, somehow, come to help me. That’s twice you’ve saved me.” 

Alistair froze in place as she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned close. “Thank you, Rory. I hope you can find peace now.” 

With a soft, chaste press of her lips against his, the dream shattered. 

*****

Alistair woke up with the fading impression of her kiss on his lips and tears in his eyes. He heard Alexia moan softly next to him, and quickly turned to see Wynne helping her sit up. Alexia looked slightly dazed. “What happened?”

“A demon ambushed us and trapped you in a construct in your mind. Alistair brought you back.” 

Alexia followed Wynne’s gesture, turning to greet him with a weak smile. “Of course he did.” 

The absolute faith and unguarded affection shining from her eyes were so at odds with what he had just experienced in her mind that Alistair had to turn away. For the first time, he found himself unable to trust her, wondering if she was deceiving him or simply herself when she claimed to love him. 

Unaware of his turmoil, Alexia sat up straighter, moving away from Wynne’s tentative support and rubbing a gauntleted hand at her forehead. “I don’t remember a thing. What was I dreaming this time?” 

For a second, Alistair considered telling her the truth. But what would be the point of hurting her with that, of letting her know that her deepest desire was for something that would never be possible, of reinforcing that he wasn’t enough to make her happy? Even if their love wasn’t enough for her, he sometimes thought it was all he had, and he was too selfish to give that up. So he quickly came up with a lie, hoping she wouldn’t notice the brief pause. “Same as at the Tower: peace and a happy ending once all of this is over.” 

“I hardly need a demon to offer me that.” Alexia chuckled as she pulled herself to her feet. “Let’s get back to work and make it happen ourselves.” 

Her face glowed with determination and purpose, and Alistair could only hope that she wouldn’t be able to see that his answering smile felt strangely hollow.


End file.
